


as not the awaken ghosts

by SavvyLark



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demonic Possession, F/F, F/M, Good and Evil, Happy halloween, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Neither Katniss nor Prim are harmed in the dub/con, Octoberlark, Panem, Prim and Peeta are not reaped, Smut, Spirit Animals, Spooky, Suspense, overall sense of terror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavvyLark/pseuds/SavvyLark
Summary: In Panem Canon Divergent Prim + Peeta were not reaped and we’re jumping onto the story a year and a few months after K + P’s final reaping. Loosely based off a haunting Native American legend. Good and Evil spirits are involved in this chilling tale.But with each silent step I took tracking the splatters of bright red and heavy blood, my nerves heightened. The air felt colder, a sudden wind howled, and with the sound of every rustling branch and twig crack, my instincts urged me to turn back. Maybe I would have, if I hadn't discovered three or four thin trees slathered with the tell tale signs of thick red blood. My fingers trembled as I gripped my bow, arrow nocked. Chin hovering over my shoulder, ready for any threat. I checked my surroundings meticulously.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huuuuuge thank you to Katnessdoesnotfollowback for her Beta skills, she's to blame for this spooky tale as she gave me the push to write it. Thank you!!

With each deep inhale, the icy air burned my throat. My eyes darting every which way, adjusting in darkness, just before the forest flooded with early morning light.

 

It was quite.

 

 _Too_ quiet.

 

The eerie silence felt heavy in the air. Normally my hunter's intuition would come to a reasonable explanation, when the woods were this quiet a predator could be nearby.

 

This was the first time I felt a haunting shift. An almost whisper. Something in my gut made me shiver, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

 

Notions of bad omens usually make me roll my eyes, I don’t have time to put stock into _a creepy feeling_.

 

I often felt safer outside the fence in my woods with my bow and a quiver full of arrows than in the entire district. But with each silent step I took tracking the splatters of bright red and heavy blood, my nerves heightened. The air felt colder, a sudden wind howled, and with the sound of every rustling branch and twig crack, my instincts urged me to _‘turn back.’_

 

Maybe I would have, if I hadn't discovered three or four thin trees slathered with the tell tale signs of thick red blood.

 

My fingers trembled as I gripped my bow, arrow nocked. Chin hovering over my shoulder, ready for any threat. I checked my surroundings meticulously.

 

“My buck better be just around the corner. I can't let a ravenous wolf or some rouge mutt devour my deer,” I thought.

 

The eerie, shrill cry of screeching owl seemed almost like a warning. My jaw dropped as I caught sight of an ancient stone arrowhead. Turning it over in my hands I realized just where I was in the woods... or rather, what I was near.

 

Hundreds of ancient high quality carved arrowheads littered the ground near the Boiling Springs. These must have been here long before the Dark Days.

 

A boulder near the Springs had drawings on it. I trailed my fingers over the rough and very worn markings. A large hoofed deer, an ancient mockingbird, and pair of wolf paws, almost as big as some capitol mutt, etched into the stone.

 

Despite my skin crawling, I began to recount everything I knew about the Boiling Springs as I continued forward after my buck.

 

I hadn't heard anyone mention the Boiling Springs since I was a child. Far from my usual hunting ground, the Springs was a pool fed by three or more fresh water springs that used to be well known, beyond the dark days, as a natural phenomenon. Water pressure would built up from the especially sandy soil and porous deep recesses of the fresh water springs. Eventually pushing the sand out of the way, causing eruptions on the surface. Bubbling, and rolling in a way which would appear to be boiling.

 

The main pool had a number of spots where water erupted at different times and sometimes a number of eruptions took place simultaneously. All through harsh winters it bubbled. The Springs’ temperatures never dipped below 50 degrees fahrenheit all year long, and never froze.

 

A dilapidated bridge surrounded by gnarled branches and twisted trees spanned a narrow point in the Springs. It must have been used to tread across the waters at one time. The changing leaves left the trees half bare, a gust of wind whistled, taking stray brown leaves with it, shooting them every which way. I zipped my leather jacket until the cold metal teeth hit my neck and I tugged my scarf tighter.

 

Careful to keep a certain amount of distance, I cautiously approached. It is said that quicksand surrounds the Boiling Spring and has sucked in many unsuspecting visitors.

 

Dragging them to their deaths.

 

I must have looked like a wide eyed child, taking in the various eruptions as they bubbled to the surface in large bursts. In that moment, I remember thinking that if it wasn’t for the fence, or the concerning legends about the Springs, this would have been a popular place to visit.

 

I shuddered to think of just how many bones littered the bottom of the deep pool.

 

According to legend recounted orally through generations in the Seam, the Boiling Springs was a sacred place for the people who lived off the land in this area long ago. A blessed ceremonial sight and sacred ground. But a curse resided upon the pool of the Boiling Sspring itself. It was said that it was also a way the native people long ago disposed of their enemies. The indigenous people believed that if the body was disposed of in the deep pool, the evils of their spirits were released into the Boiling Spring and would remain confined there until a new opportunity arose, decades, maybe even a century later.

 

It's also said that a Great Spirit, the Sun god, watches over the sacred area and blessed those pure of heart. They were able to tread over the bridge, retrieve fresh water and restore their spirit and health. Conversely, if the heart was betrayed, one may be subject to torment by the Evil Spirit. Their fate determined solely by the state of the person’s heart. Their souls subjected to the judgment of the spirits or even possessed by evil. The spring itself bubbled and swirled in such a way that some have said they witnessed the very creature, the most powerful Evil Spirit, that resided in the pool coming to the surface.

 

An array of thoughts and emotions flashed in my mind's eye when I considered my own heart. Questions rose to the surface.

 

 _Mockingbird_ spoke an older woman's voice, sweet as sunshine. I swallowed and my heart started beating faster as I felt a warmth tingle under my skin.

 

As if to confirm what I had heard, a gray bird with a white underside fluttered very close to my head. It had white bar like patches on its wings, a long black tail with white outer feathers, and a long, slender beak. I was sure no one had seen one in my lifetime, since they mated with the Capitol's jabberjays. I thought all that was left of that population were Mockingjays.

 

But near the Boiling Springs that day, I studied up close the pure, ancient bird.

 

The mockingbird landed on a branch with its beak pointed in one particular direction. I turned my gaze and caught a glimpse of a white belly and a puddle of blood just beyond the gnarled bridge. Slowly I approached the buck, weapon raised, in the event that I needed to fire another arrow. The odds were in my favor when the deer remained still.

 

A memory came to mind, a time when I was in woods with my dad. He shot a deer, and I was such a little girl then, alive with excitement. We had meat in our icebox all winter long that year. My dad very seriously explained the importance of not taking our deer for granted.

 

“Because we value the Earth, we will never take more than what we need, so as not to deplete our resources, Katniss. We will also return the favor by giving back and taking care of the Earth, because she takes care of us,” he told me, in his gentle, kind, velvety voice.

 

“I will carry that on,” I whispered into the quiet woods with a smile.

 

I suddenly felt a warmth beam down and enveloped me, as if strong, grandmotherly arms had wrapped around me. I looked up, the sun was rising and the clouds overhead broke in such a way that streams of light were pouring down near and all around me. My eyes darted everywhere, not sure what to think about the light falling on only myself. I shook my head, just a coincidence. Maybe it was only my perception.

 

\-----------------

  


“You made a killing at the Hob today Prim,” I told my blue eyed sister, placing coins in her warm hands. I set the other things she asked for, ribbons, a bolt of fabric, rubbing alcohol, oils, and strips of medical tape on our hardwood kitchen table and turned my gaze to my sister.

 

Primrose has grown more beautiful with every passing day. Her golden hair, pale complexion, and gift for healing resemble our mother. Merchant or Seam, everyone has loved her gentle spirit and optimistic view of life.

 

“Rory told me all about the buck you shot and how heavy it was as he struggled to help you bring it to Rooba for butchering. Wow a buck!!” She pulled me into a hug but tilted her head to emphasize our height difference. She wouldn't miss an opportunity to emphasize how she’d grown taller than her older sister.

 

“It should last us through the winter!” I smiled at her brightly and shoved her head away. “Just in time, I'm not sure when I will be able to get behind the fence next, after the news going around this afternoon.”

 

“I can tide us over too, Katniss. You don't support us alone anymore,” Prim told me, and I felt a mix of emotions at her words. My chest felt a little tight.

 

I smiled and helped Prim put away the various supplies I gathered from the woods for her herbal soaps and salves.

 

One of the scariest moments of my young life was the first year Primrose was eligible for the reaping. The district twelve escort, who had hair that resembled one of the bright frosted cupcakes at the bakery, pulled a name out of the glass bowl. I'm ashamed to admit I was so preoccupied, my mind raced with concern for my own 20 slips being selected. When the words fell from the Effie Trinket’s strangely colored lips, “Prim--” I froze in place as the whole world spun around me. It wasn’t until I registered the form making her way up to the stage was a 17 year old merchant girl named Primaria Hayward, and Prim was safe standing in the section of the youngest children eligible, that I could move or breathe.

 

That moment shook me to the point where I had recurring nightmares of it being my sweet 12 year old sister. Each night her thin form and golden flowing hair in two braids whipped past me. I watched in horror as Prim hesitantly made her way to the stage with pale balled fists. I screamed and thrashed, trying to break free from the peacekeepers’ tight grasp.

 

In every dream I was helpless to stop Prim.

 

I couldn't save her.

 

One morning I woke in a cold sweat from the same nightmare, sheets knotted around my waist as I caught my breath and wiped away the moisture pouring from my eyes. As I struggled to get enough air to my lungs, I looked out the window towards the woods. My pulse slowed as I took deep soothing breaths while my eyes took in the life giving green of the trees.

 

Like many moments when I have struggled for the motivation to go on, I thought of the bread that saved my life, that gave me hope. I remembered the day I found a dandelion and decided to go into the woods. I could not separate the memory, the feeling of hope, from the baker’s youngest son. Whatever emotions that were at war inside me, I always found an unexplainable calm when Peeta came to mind.

 

In the distance, a soft orange leaf slowly fluttered down and danced around the tree.

 

Determined that I was not helpless. Then and there, though fatigued from screaming, I gasped in a hoarse voice a vowed to teach Prim as many survival skills as I possibly could.

 

If only for my own peace of mind, I would do everything I possibly could for my sister in the event that she were reaped.

 

That was the year the whispers of rebellion started. A little girl named Rue from district 11 was reaped at the age of 12. “She’s sweet as a flower, just like Prim,” I had thought as I watched on the massive screens set up in the town square. She had made an outstanding impression in the tribute parade, dressed as an innocent Mockingjay. One could almost imagine the beautiful brown girl with a halo of black curls around her head flitting through the air.

 

Never before had so many in Panem been in favor of a 12 year old, and one from an outlying district for that matter.

 

Remarkably, Rue made it to the top 8 only to meet a sickening and gruesome death that later had consequences for the eventual victor of the 74th Hunger Games, who took Rue’s life. This also created a ripple effect as Cato become one of the most hated tributes in recent history. His skills, in past years would have been praised, but instead shined the first light on the ugly brutality that is the Hunger Games.

 

The government gladly blamed Cato instead of taking the responsibility themselves. We all knew better than to fall for their lies again.

 

Saturday mornings, I took Prim into the woods. I taught my sister as many survival skills and self-defense moves I could think of. Gale added Rory to the Saturday lessons and eventually Gale had to work in the mines so we kept Sundays for a day of hunting just the two of us. Prim wasn’t a hunter, her hands were made for healing, so Saturdays became gathering days with Rory and Prim.

 

Prim was clever, and studied our family plant book. She started concocting salves, healing balms and experimenting with soaps and scrubs. Eventually she dabbled in soaps and healing balls that helped with specific ailments. This was extremely helpful for our mother and Prim herself as she trained to become a healer.

 

By the time I had finished school, Prim was bringing in an income for a side business in her own right.

 

The unrest over the past three years of the Hunger Games left our district inwardly outraged, though only rebelling outwardly in small ways. The whispers of rebellion and staged passive defiance caused tighter control and an even tighter reign of authority in the district.

 

The 77th Hunger Games, the first year I was not eligible for the reaping, featured a tribute from district 2 being reaped by name. For the first time in decades, maybe a quarter century, no volunteer had stepped up. In a shocking turn of events, the tall, sturdy blonde girl had the last name of the most hated victor in history, Cato Hadley. The girl met her end as a final 3 placeholder just months ago -- in a gruesome and horrific dismemberment by a Capitol mutt.

 

Things escalated on both sides when just a few short weeks later, an unscheduled mandatory viewing fanned the flames.

 

My hands were submerged in the bubbly water and as I cleaned one of the last dishes from dinner, Prim chattered on about school beside me while she dried. “...and of course you know Lydia wouldn’t know what to do if that happened, she was too worried about a stain on her dress.” I smiled to myself, cherishing these moments with my sister. “I told them how you supported our family when things were harder, Katniss,” she squealed, “Rory told me how big that turkey was when you were teaching him to hunt.”

 

The look of pride in her eyes made my heart swell. I knew I would do anything for my sister.

 

A familiar but startling sound blared from the living room. In that moment, I almost dropped the dish in my soapy hands. Prim and I scrambled to the couch and watched the screen, speechless.

 

The announcement was the death of the 74th victor. Though the Capitol report convoluted what happened, it seemed clear to me that the man took his own life. Cato Hadley was dead, just weeks after his sister had died in the arena.

 

 _What did this mean for Panem? For the districts?_ Claudius Templeton asked. I wasn’t sure at the time but a lump in my throat lingered, along with an intense concern for the future.

 

It was a runaway miner that caused more peacekeepers to come to district 12 days after Cato's suicide. Cray, the head peacekeeper, became more harsh and the consequences for stepping out of line more drastic. The buck I shot in the woods was incredibly lucky timing because I knew it was only a matter of time before they turned on the fence with full electricity.

 

Cray was a disgusting man but a powerful one. As early as I could remember, Cray had a habit of luring starving girls into his bed for money. It made me sick that he would take advantage of such vulnerability. I was all the more grateful for my ability to use a bow and my father’s instruction in my youth.

 

I wasn’t naive, though. I was fully aware that the odds were not in my favor if Cray chose to torment my family. Cray had made no secret of wanting me in his bed over the years. The way he leered at me and licked his lips made my skin crawl. I only hoped that the peacekeepers’ appetite for wild game would be enough to keep my family out of harm's way.

 

\--------------

 

I went about my usual trades nearly euphoric, buzzing with energy from the successful deer hunt the day before. As I headed to the Hob, I felt a strange and alarming heat radiate from within me, almost like a fever that was localized within my chest, eyes, and fingertips. Since the moment I encountered whatever it was at the Boiling Springs, I noticed a change but I had new awareness of it there in the Hob. I unconsciously rubbed my chest, flexed my fingers a few times, then dismissed the thought entirely.

 

I had some bones and innards for Greasy Sae that she liked for stews. She told me she sometimes has them simmer and boil down for days to make her hearty broth.

 

I took a stool next to Darius the Peacekeeper and pretended to ignore his presence.

 

I expected something playful from him and I felt a tug on my soup spoon. I snatched up the utensil before he had a grip around it. I raised one eyebrow at the peacekeeper with kind smiles and red hair as he chortled, “I didn't think you'd notice.”

 

“Underestimating my reflexes and hunter’s sense? You must think the animals I hunt approach me themselves.”

 

Darius shook his head with smirk. “Well, isn’t that why Gale calls you Catnip? Like that plant’s effect on felines, you have that effect… on your surroundings,”

 

“She has no idea, the effect she can have,” Peeta Mellark added, popping out of nowhere and sliding into the stool on the other side of mine.

 

After we had finished school about a year ago, Peeta started coming around the Hob, selling intricate decorative wood carved sculptures, small enough to fit on a desk or dresser. He's creative and clever with a knife.

 

Why he wanted to sell at the black market was beyond me, but I guessed it was something he wanted to hide from his mother. We only spoke to one another for trades. Well, Peeta tried to make small talk but I was terrible at it and usually embarrassed myself. He'd never sidled up next to me before, and with such ease, as if we were old friends.

 

“Hey there huntress on fire.” Greasy Sea turned and placed a bowl of hearty stew in front of me and one in front the baker's son. “Bread boy,” Sae called him and tilted her head. Steam wafted above the two bowls and mingled with the delicious smells emanating from the thick broth. This particular blend had savory vegetables, venison, sweet tomatoes, and sweet basil. Savory and sweet. “Good and evil,” the old Seam woman barked with a wheezing cackle.

 

I turned and met Peeta's blue eyes as I wrinkled my nose and shook my head at the old woman. He smiled back shyly and snorted.

 

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks and my heart was beating faster for some reason. I had to look away. I took a spoonful of stew and shoved it in my mouth. I burned my tongue and I tried to hide my foolishness by choking it down.

 

I cleared my throat, “So Darius, any word about the runaway miner?”

 

It seemed it was Peeta's turn to gulp his soup too quickly, as I heard him sputter and cough. I found myself patting Peeta's back, a reflex, while I watched Darius, waiting for his answer.

 

Darius frowned as if something disgusting was in his mouth. It made the faint scar on his eyebrow more noticeable. He once told me it was from target practice, a firearm recoil.

 

“Cray wants to sweep the woods later today.” He took a bite, his eyes looked around the Hob as he chewed, as if  he was deciding how much to reveal. Then smirked, “I'm sure the guys will be shaking in their boots. I wish I had a brave huntress who knows just what to do beyond the fence to keep me safe.”

 

I ignored his comment and kept eating.

 

Peeta told me, “I wouldn't mind even the creepiest parts of the woods beyond the fence if you were there to rescue me.”

 

I couldn't help but laugh, there’s no way this broad stocky man who I had seen haul hundred pound flour sacks as if they were nothing would need a tiny woman like me to protect him.

 

Sae cackled, wheezed, and added, “Watch out for cursed waters, or sacred lands. If you stumble into something like that, no one can help you.”

 

I froze and tightened my hold on my spoon.

 

Beside me Peeta's jaw tensed.

 

Darius walked away.

 

I turned to look at Peeta and could't hold in my smile. “I took down a five point buck yesterday morning!”

 

Peeta smiled at me with his jaw hung open. “Katniss! That's incredible!”

 

“I’ve never taken one down on my own before.” I shook my head, “The last one we took down, was just before Prim’s tenth birthday. We brought the young buck to Rooba and made a deal, we had never had so much coin in our lives and the next day I went to the market in the square so I could buy dress materials. I found a near death nanny goat that the Goat Man had a deal with Rooba to butcher. After she heard I was interested, she changed her mind. As she marched off, I caught her wink.  
  
“The Goat Man was mad, but he still wanted that goat off his hands. It took us half an hour to agree on the price. Quite a crowd had gathered by then to hand out opinions. It was an excellent deal if the goat lived; I’d been robbed if she died. People took sides in the argument, but I took the goat. In a moment of complete giddiness, I bought a pink ribbon and tied it around her neck. Then we hurried back to my house.

 

“Peeta, you should have seen Prim’s reaction when we walked in with that goat. Remember this is a girl who wept to save that awful old cat, Buttercup. She was so excited she started crying and laughing all at once. My mother was less sure, seeing the injury, but the pair of them went to work on it, grinding up herbs and coaxing brews down the animal’s throat.

 

“That night, Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire. And just before they drifted off, the goat licked her cheek, like it was giving her a good night kiss or something,” I told him. “It was already mad about her.”

 

“Was it still wearing the pink ribbon?” he asked.  
  
“I think so,” I said. “Why?”   
  
“I’m just trying to get a picture,” he says thoughtfully. “I can see why that day made you happy.”   
  
“Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine,” I told him.   
  
“Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much,” said Peeta drily.   
  
“The goat has paid for itself. Several times over,” I told him in a superior tone.   
  
“Well, it wouldn’t dare do anything else after you saved its life,” said Peeta.

 

I smiled at him and the conversation dropped as we dug into our soups.

 

“You know, you only smile when you're talking about the woods or about your sister,” Peeta told me. I didn't know what to say., I wasn't sure if I was flustered that he had noticed or that I had let my guard down in front of Peeta enough for him to see that side of me.

 

I frowned. I learned that I liked the way his eyes crinkled and my chest flooded with warmth at the sound of his warm deep laughter. I wasn't sure why his bright smile made me nervous.

 

Peeta nudged me and pointed to a couple talking closely with big smiles on their faces, it looked like the young man was buying a girl jewelry. I felt my lips and cheeks form a smile as I watched the couple. “Looks like a last reaping gift or maybe it's for a toasting.”

 

Peeta turned to me looking somewhat serious, but almost annoyed. “Hey why hasn't Gale bought you anything like that?”

 

“Oh um,” I tried to keep a mask of indifference on my face, and swallowed. I took a deep breath. “Gale and I aren't together anymore. Haven't been for a while now. Uh, after the reaping… things went downhill fast.”

 

I survived my final reaping and almost immediately Gale was hoping for a more permanent commitment. It had been a rough road, we weren't speaking to each other beyond polite acknowledgement.

 

I shoveled the stew in my mouth to ignore Peeta's reaction. _Her failure, her foolishness_ , as some men in the district remarked. I didn't want to see that look from Peeta. Not the boy with the bread.

 

“Well, he's nuts!” My eyes darted to Peeta and he was scowling. In all the years I had observed the baker's son, I couldn't remember a time I had seen him do that. I tried to remain indifferent so I shrugged and asked why.

 

“Who would possibly end things with you?”

 

I squeezed my lower lip between my teeth, as I tried not to cringe. _I_ ended things with Gale not the other way around. “We just wanted different things… it's for the best.”

 

I rubbed my nose, and looked away. I wanted to explain to Peeta why I wasn't bothered by the relationship ending, without opening the entire can of worms. “He's seeing Leevy now. She wants a lot of kids so, she will make him happy.”

 

Because dating Gale, however briefly, was a mistake, one I didn't necessarily regret. Though painful, it taught me a lot about myself. Gale and I weren't a good fit. I don't need his fire, I have plenty of it on my own. When things ended, it was a relief.

 

Peeta's elbow slid over to nudge mine as he asked, “What's your guess? Last reaping gift or for a toasting?”

 

I nibbled the corner of my bottom lip as I studied the couple's mannerisms, as if it was a very serious question. “I'm guessing just reaping.”

 

“My bet is it's for a toasting.” He said with a wink. “If I'm wrong I owe you a cookie, what will you give me if I’m right?” Peeta asked me playfully.

 

My eyes widened but I could feel my cheeks pulling into a small smile.

 

“Um uh, some dates--er figs I mean. When I can-- I can scavenge something for you to put in your-- your bakery, your baked goods, to bake.”

Hoping to divert the topic, my eyes wander about the Hob where I spotted a familiar head of golden and rust colored waves. “Is Marjolaine here looking for you?” I asked Peeta gesturing to the Merchant girl as she watched Peeta and lingered around a table of tools for mining.  

 

“Yup...” His gaze met mine and my eyes lingered where he licked his lips. “She's too stubborn to ask, but we might need your help,” he whispered.

 

And for some reason I couldn't ignore the use of the word _we_.

 

 _Why?_ I wondered in my mind.

 

And at the question that he wouldn't have, shouldn't have been able to hear, his eyes locked in mine.

 

Then Peeta's eyes lightened in a strange way that reminded me of a wolf's snowy blue eyes with a dark as midnight ring around them.

 

 _To protect her._ I heard Peeta's voice growl but his lips hadn't moved.

 

I blinked a few times. Imagining things again, I told myself.

 

“They're moving to the Seam next week,” was all he said as he stood, as if that explained everything. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, thanked Greasy Sae and handed her a smaller loaf of bread. Then he smiled shyly at me, I felt my cheeks heat up as he spoke, “It was a pleasure, Katniss.” Peeta Mellark whispered in my ear, “We'll talk later.”

 

And for some reason my heart tumped frantically in my chest. Gale's whispers never had that effect on me.

 

I found myself appraising Peeta. My eyes traveled his stocky wrestler form and his confident sway with each step he took away from me. Toward her. I noticed the muscular planes of his back through his form fitting t-shirt, his fingers raked the back if his neck and--HOLY BICEPS!

 

I felt a wave of heat flood my face again. I chastised myself, but my eyes lingered as the baker walked up to the merchant beauty with blond and flaming locks. Ivory skin, unique beautiful eyes, womanly curves that turned heads, and long legs that effortlessly gained attention. I could never compete with her. _Not that I wanted to,_ I told myself.

 

Marjolaine was not the typical merchant, with light brown-green colored eyes and hair streaked with rust. The fifth child in a family of six, her features and that of her younger brother’s were a contrast with the rest of their family, all of whom were blond and blue eyed. While Marjolaine and Abel suspiciously resembled one of the more controlling peacekeepers, Horus, who’d been known to take unethical forms of payment. I blanched at that and reminded myself not every merchant family had it easy, like I’d once thought.

 

I forced my thoughts to focus on what was in front of me and I smiled at their interaction, though my face felt tight. They were a handsome couple, I admitted. I remember thinking they looked good together when they danced at the Harvest Festival. She seemed to whisper things to make him laugh as the moonlight caught the streaks of his blond wavy hair.  Before Delly cut in to dance with the other Merchant girl, Peeta placed a kiss on the pale cheek of the red and blonde haired girl. The whispers, sighs, and giggling gossip in regard to their interactions were hard to ignore.

 

I was sure Peeta would have proposed after her final reaping. I even tuned my ear in to listen for the gossiping hens clucking about the various toastings being planned in the days and weeks after Marjolaine's last reaping.

 

No announcement from the Mellark family was spoken of.  

 

As the pair of merchants left the Hob, I noticed they weren't holding hands or smiling at each other. They looked serious.

 

I shook my head, eyes clenched shut hoping to rid myself of the trajectory of those thoughts.

 

Sae looked at me with a knowing smile, as if she could read my thoughts like a hawk. I noticed I had a choke hold on my spoon. As I loosened my grip, she laughed. I scowled back at her as if to say, “leave it alone.”

 

“The Boiling Springs?” Greasy Sae smiled, changing the topic.

 

 _How did you know?_ I bobbed my head and lifted one eyebrow at the woman squinting the other eye. Sae smiled, “Just a look in your eyes,” I heard her explained with a shrug.

 

“The look in my eyes?” I repeat what I heard.

 

Her sharp gray eyes studied me for a moment. Sae looked around the Hob, then began to speak slow and measured, emphasizing that what she was saying was important. “Select people, only a handful every generation or so have a deeper connection with the earth, they are earth changers, and they have a great influence on those around them. An influence for good or for evil. These few have a great responsibility.”

 

“Some say it is the rebirth of these spirits and their deep ties to one another.” The Hob seemed to fade away at her words as images floated in my mind of various animals, and a certain glint or look in their eyes that brought that animal to mind. I saw clever unique eyes, a flash of red in her hair and bold quick reflexes of a fox, slicing through the woods. Wise looking old gray eyes keeping watch, a Hawk appeared, with the ability to see clearly and perceive what others cannot. A dark look in the eyes of a menacing looking man, the shadow of a puma. A wolf snarling and protective with a startlingly familiar blue shade in his eyes, but at the time I couldn't quit place it.

 

“The Doe is to be protected, as she is gifted in healing and critical for the survival of the next generations. She pours out sensitivity, intuition, gentleness and grace under pressure. Her beauty and innocence have a ripple effect on her people.”

 

“The Wolf has great strength and endurance. He can bring protection or great destruction. The Evil Spirit, many times in the past, will capture him and used for great harm, or if he resists then he is used for good. It all depends upon his inner strength and purity of heart.”

 

“There are a few others but I'm only going to tell you about what might... interest you.” I shrugged and finished my soup. Sae handed me a slice of the bread Peeta had given her, I was so distracted by her story, I didn't question it.

 

“A Mockingbird is a messenger from the Great Spirit, she has understanding, innocence, and influence based on the purest intentions.” Then Sae leaned in real close and whispered, “And if she asks a question with the sincerest intentions, she may get the person's honest answer in her thoughts… There hasn't been a Mockingbird Spirit here that we know of in over 70 years.” Her eyes urged me to fill in some blanks. The rebellion. The Dark Days. My heart drummed faster in my chest but I maintained an indifferent mask on my face.

 

Sae was always bringing up our ancient native heritage. I think she felt it was her duty to pass on what she learned from generations before her. Over the years, I had heard her speak of the spirit world, bad omens and our deeper significance in the circle of life.

 

She explained more about the Boiling Springs as I sat in the Hob that day and my world shifted. The waters were revered as sacred healing place. If opposing tribes, even those at war, arrived at the same spring, all conflict ceased because they believed they were walking on sacred ground. They were a people whose very existence was based upon the gifts the waters had to offer. Moved for that very reason, in order for the land to repair and refresh itself. The people long ago whose descendants are now residence of the Seam knew that they did not shape the land; they lived in harmony with nature. Seam people still understood and practiced this concept, acknowledging that relationships, including one with the land, should be handled with reciprocity.

 

My father instilled these values in me. The concept of owing people must have been a part of our heritage, forefathers of the Seam, long ago. Making peace with the earth that sustains them, not taking more than we should and giving the the earth time to replenish itself.

 

Then Sae told me about the terrifying circumstances, in whispered tones, when an evil one embodied a man with a powerful spirit animal inside him, who tricked the young men of the tribes, vulnerable from their desires, at war in their hearts.

 

Her voice took on a different quality, as if recounting a story passed down from many generations, “It was spring, and the young braves’ hearts were beating for the beautiful maidens hidden in their mothers’ tipis. A great kill would prove manhood, and the maidens would surrender to marriage.

 

“The young men were successful in their blood thirst, as the people were gentle and unsuspecting. The people woke to wailing over their dead. They ran for their lives into the tall grass, holding their hands over the mouths of the little ones to quiet them. Blood ran everywhere. It fell into the Boiling Springs. The horror spread into the ravine. Children ran for fear when they saw the dripping scalps. Many more lost their lives as the men killed with no remorse. Their hearts weren't right and the evil spirit had a tight old on them.”

 

I recoiled and covered my mouth in horror as I pictured the scene in my mind, “What happened? How did the bloodshed end?”

 

With a gleam in her eye and a smirk, Greasy Sae answered my question. “It was the Mockingbird who found favor with the Great Spirit. She formed a plan, and fought back. He was after the sweet one everyone loved, the healer called Doe. The Evil man possessed by the spirit was lead by the Mockingbird to the Boiling Springs, madness took him, but he could not escape. He ran and ran, but the wings of Thunder beat him back into the flood that rained from the cloud.  
  
“Vines reached out for him and took him by his ankles. The water rose to his screaming mouth and to his gaping eyes. He was too evil to cry for mercy, and the talons of the Hawk Spirit ripped out his sight, so he would never see the Happy Hunting Ground. The Mockingbird led the one called Doe to escape.”

 

I took in everything Sae said with a heavy weight on my shoulders and tightness in my chest, and continued to mull over her words, finding they gave me strength.

 

I was more than relieved when I found Gale that evening after he got off his shift. I hugged him to myself, knowing that the missing miner was not my old best friend.

 

“I'm sorry we haven't been talking, can we be friends again?”

 

His dark gray eyes gleamed as he smiled at me, “Friends. Okay Catnip.”  He hugged me again and breathed against my shoulder, “I'm glad you’re safe too.”

  


\------------------

  


It wasn’t clear what caused the horrifying shift, but seemingly overnight the head peacekeeper’s entire demeanor changed. The man was absolutely ruthless and took a horrific level of glee administering punishment.

 

Cray’s cruelty and this new evil twinkle in his eye seemed to drive his nightly customers to other peacekeepers, younger and more handsome who enjoyed their company with slightly more gentleness. Cray’s companions all but stopped coming, which only fanned the flames of his anger and desire for control.

 

Then the unusual threats began. Cray threatened whole families, tormenting them until they relinquished their daughters for a night. Mostly among the families with young Seam women who were unmarried. No one knew for sure, but after weeks of threats to her family, when Estelle Turmeric took on a closed off demeanor and down cast stance if anyone approached her; it was unspoken but everyone knew Cray made good of his threats.

 

When it continued to happen, people didn’t talk about it, but they knew. The shame, the helpless look in their eyes. Mothers, fragile and broken inside. Fathers who wouldn’t look anyone in the eye.

 

The entire district fell in line, in full submission after that. Cray's eyes took on a glassy quality in an amber hue where his eyes were once blue, reminiscent of some otherworldly folklore once described to me. It sent shivers down my back every time I caught sight of his head with a few strands of silvery hair combed sideways over his unusually red face as I walked passed. I absolutely dreaded days when I had to trade directly to him instead of whoever was at the back door of the barracks, which was usually Darius.

 

The squishing sound under my foot as mud clung to my boots made my approach noticeable and I felt like easy prey. I flicked my wrist as I knocked on the back door of the barracks with caution. I did not want to have an encounter with Cray on this already wet day. My clothes clung to my form, as the light rain drops floated down, almost like mist hanging in the air.

 

I sighed in relief at the sight of the friendly peacekeeper’s rust colored hair and smiling face. “Katniss,” Darius greeted me, though his face fell into a look of concern. A look that had often been on his face those past couple of weeks. He was upset by the recent turn of events. Just a few days previous, someone had been whipped severely for minor offenses. Many suspected that it had everything to do with Cray's sick and twisted preferences to torment families.

 

And there I was putting myself in an increasingly vulnerable position by trading, but the consequences might have been worse if I hadn't. “This will be my last trade for a while I think, Cray specifically asked for turkey, and if I can… If it ensures some safety--” I choked on the last words as my throat seemed too tight to speak.  

 

It had been a good month after the buck before I could hunt again without being caught.  The previous Sunday, I joined Gale hunting for the first time in what felt like a year. Our haul was impressive, it's more efficient to have a good hunting partner. Despite everything happening and Cray's tight control, the head peacekeeper and his subordinates still wanted meat on their tables.

 

Though he didn’t hold back his desire for me, the comments about my looks had become increasingly more lude. Cray would hint at wanting me at his backdoor at night and remark how empty his bed had been, with those intense and frightening amber colored eyes.

 

“None of us can figure out what changed? Was it a girl at his back door? How has it been only a month that we’ve been living like this?”

 

I expected Darius to speculate with me. Instead he froze and his whole face and demeanor changed.

 

“You know something, you saw something? Tell me.”

 

 _The woods. The Boiling Springs._ I hear him answer me, though his lips hadn't moved.

 

“What happened in the woods that night? Was it the night search for the runaway minor?” I asked the peacekeeper.

 

They found the miner that night they went searching in the woods, a bashed in head and purple hand imprints around his broken neck. If they hadn’t already known who was missing, they never could have identified whose body it was. Whispers for weeks after speculated over the mysterious circumstances.

 

This grown man, a trained peacekeeper who’s no doubt endured some grueling training, started trembling. He spoke in a shallow fearful tone I had never heard from the man before, “We were searching that really creepy area by that collapsed bridge, everyone seemed to feel the same on edge feeling. I didn’t see it but I heard a splash and a gurgle. Cray somehow fell into the Boiling Springs. It took a few guys to pull him out with a rope, but he was shrieking and screaming, this horrified look in his eyes like he’d seen a ghost.” Darius shivered. “When he yelled a final ‘noo--’ it was cut off, like someone covered his mouth.” Darius’s breathing grew shallow and he took a few panicked breaths.

 

“That’s when he changed. Controlling, ruthless. I can’t look him in the eye without being overcome with a feeling of dread, Katniss. This is my superior officer.”

 

We made the trade and parted ways but I continue to mull over Darius’s words.

 

After so many months of silence between the two of us, Gale and I had finally adjusted to being friends again in the last month. Things won't be the same, but Everdeen's and Hawthorne's are family. Gale had plenty to say about Cray and what we should do to take action. The miners have always had one foot in the way of rebellion at all times.

 

There was a heightened need for curtains among the Seam for weeks, but I heard Merchant's were also affected. Hazelle Hawthorne was sewing curtains, and selling them. We found it easier for people to place orders through me. While in town I stopped into Delly’s shoe shop, to see if she had heard anyone new ask about curtains to block out a creepy Cray leering at their daughter's at night.

 

The peppy merchant girl greeted me with her usual enthusiasm. Her eyes lingered on my shirt, wet from the rain, embarrassingly tight around the front, and she smiled. I imagine I looked like a wet squirrel to this nice merchant girl, who was always dry in her home and well fed. She reached for the end of my braid and squeezed the water out. We couldn't hold in our laughter.

 

“So I’ll be taking curtain orders to Hazelle, should I check in once a week?”

 

“You mean you’ll be around here more often?” she beamed, but then added, “I mean yeah, once a week sounds great!” The woman went on and on about what a shame it was that Cray had been peeping in young girls’ windows. We all knew it, but the Merchants closed their eyes to it until his wandered to their precious blond girls. “I don’t know how much longer we can take this oppression, Katniss.” Delly’s blue eyes filled with so much emotion and vulnerability. I put my hand on her shoulder in an attempt the comfort her.

 

“We have to work together, Seam and Merchant. We know who the real enemy is, Delly.”

 

The Merchant woman smiled and pulled me into a hug which I did not expect, so my body was stiff in her arms. “You’re a good friend, Katniss.”

 

Friend. I’ve never really been good at friends. I did my best to accept her kindness, and as I left she smiled. “See you next time, Katniss.”

 

As I walked from her shop to the bakery my eyes caught the smoke rising out of the chimney and thought to myself, _maybe it isn’t a bad idea to make some more friends_.

 

I approached back door of the bakery with my usual trade, three squirrels. The door opened but Peeta’s focus was at his right as he laughed and shushed whoever he was talking to. I scowled, but when his eyes met mine, I unintentionally softened.

 

“Hungry for squirrel today, baker boy?” I asked with unexpected bodness. 

 

“For you? Always.” The smile he flashed me grow weak in the knees, and the softness in his eyes made the air around us heavy and thick.

 

I licked my lips and reached into my game bag, hoping that focusing on the task at hand would help me ignore my confusing thoughts. I heard feet shuffling across the floor and settle near us. I handed Peeta the squirrels as Marjolaine began to speak. “So Hazelle Hawthorne is selling curtains?”

 

I looked up and she was casually resting her arm on Peeta’s shoulder. I noticed coal dust around every fingernail, embedded in every wrinkle and crease on her delicate hands. A dusting of black coal gave her hair a darker quality. I had heard she was working in the Mines now but had a hard time believing in until Gale told me she was wicked with a pickaxe. “I heard you were the contact for taking orders?”

 

“I am. News travels fast.” I answered too quickly. “What do you have for trade?”

 

Her green-brown eyes would dart down from my wet shirt clinging to my chest back up to my eyes every so often as she spoke to me, lingering every so often. I started to feel annoyed. It was wet outside. I couldn't understand why my wetness was such a funny sight for these merchants.

 

She took a deep breath, shook her head for a moment. “Ah, I was thinking Albe, my brother could work something out with, I don’t know, any chores or heavy lifting.” She paused, perhaps hoping I’d fill in the blank. Her brother was once thought to be slow or mute. My mom said it was likely from brain trauma when he was very young. But as he got older, it was clear that the boy was quick as a whip and was capable as any other children in every area except his speech. Just a grade above Prim. No one really knew why he lived with his sister in the Seam, but reasonable speculation pointed to the fact that Marjolaine and Albe share a reddish tint to their hair and looked nothing like the Merchant patriarch Cane Maizen. Albe was taller and broader than Cane, but had the same build as the peacekeeper named Horus.

 

“Deliveries are usually Fridays, so have Albe meet Hazelle after school. I’ll work it out with Hazelle.” I nodded.

 

Marjolaine leaned in close, forcing my eyes to meet hers. I stared darts at her defiantly. “What do you want?”

 

She smirked and stepped away, but answered my question without moving her lips. _I want you, I want you as my ally._

 

I’m sure I looked confused, but she was unaware that I heard her. She was sizing me up, for what, I didn't know. She seemed to find me adequate for whatever she needed an ally for.

 

Peeta had stepped away while I wasn’t looking and walked toward us then with fresh bread in hand. “I told you, I think you can help Jolaine. Maybe have her back when she’s not looking?”

 

His eyes were so sincere I couldn’t help but break. I found myself nodding without actually making a decision.

 

“Good, now I didn’t know which kind you were hoping for but I found an extra loaf. And I know you haven’t been in the woods in a while...”

 

I stared at the extra loaf, at a loss for words. The fruit, nut and whole grain bread held so much meaning. I wondered if he remembered the day. I will never forget this particular bread because it reminds me of the day he saved my life, and gave me hope.

 

My vision blurred with moisture I didn't want to put a name to. I had to rapidly blink it away before any fall. I swallowed and took the bread. I don’t take charity, but I had to rush out before I did something stupid like cry. I chewed my lip as I walked through town, still confused at the effect Peeta Mellark had on me.

 

Did he know much he meant to me?

 

I tried to remind myself that I wasn’t special to him. What I thought I felt clearly wasn’t affecting him. _He has her,_ I reminded myself.

 

Try as I might, when I thought of the bread for the rest of the day I couldn’t stop smiling anyways. It was infuriating.

 

\---------------

  


Mom, Prim, and I were seated for dinner when the door flung open and there stood a bold, almost intimidating, out of breath and muddy Marjolaine Maizen. Her hair was roughed up, she was bleeding near her temple and on her shoulder. I looked over at my mom and sister, “Excuse me.” And met my new merchant acquaintance at the door.

 

I expected her to explain, or seek my mother's medical attention. Instead she just clutched my arm and tugged me out the door. “I'll explain later. For now I need your help, no questions asked.”

 

“Got it.” I nodded and kept in step with her.

 

As we approached her singles-housing issued Seam home, I felt the second haunting shift in my gut, and a sick feeling in my stomach. The air wasn't any colder but I felt a chill run up my arms and grip the back of my neck.

 

There, slumped on the back step of her tiny coal stained home was the bloody body of a peacekeeper. A pickaxe lodged into his head.

 

I sucked in cold air and held my breath, my eyes silently begging Marjolaine to say something.

 

Her body was ramrod stiff, her eyes pooled with moisture, she shrugged as if to diffuse the seriousness, “Self-defense.” Her voice gravelled.

 

She pointed to the gun in his hand, finger on the trigger. I tore my eyes away as I took deep breaths, hoping to keep my dinner down.

 

“So help me find somewhere to put this, over the fence.” She gestured again to the dead body. My hands went cold and numb. “Morren has been trying--” she stopped there and I just nodded, I knew what she meant to say.

 

Morren was one of the Peacekeepers who would leer at girls and solicit the most pretty of them, following in Cray's ...habits.

 

I helped her dislodge the pickaxe with a sickening crack and a pop that haunted me later. We wrapped the horrifying mangled body in a tarp, hoisted it into the community wheelbarrow and treaked on silent feet to the weak point in the fence.

 

“I know just what revine to dump this in,” I told her, horrified at my own nonchalance.

 

As we entered  the woods, a fox sliced through the brush in the distance and darted to the left, a wild dog ran hot in the fox’s trail. A small doe appeared from where she was crouching and leaped right while the wild dog was tailing the fox, and allowed the doe to get away. The fox seemed clever enough to slink into the shadows as the wild dog spun in confusion.

 

As we walked, I kept wondering if there was a deeper meaning for whatever I just saw in the woods.

 

After it was taken care of, Marjolaine whispered, “I learned from a peacekeeper who I may or may not share a bloodline and likeness with, the Capitol sent so many peacekeepers with all the unrest going on that they aren't keeping tabs on all of them... if a few go missing...”

 

She sighed and added, “I'd like to think that was his weak way of looking out for me.” I think I heard her mutter, “Cane never did,” but I couldn’t be too sure.

 

We sprayed off her step with the community hose for this row of Seam houses and parted ways. I didn't return home the same woman I was when I left.

 

The next night, Marjolaine looked a little more worse for wear. There was a tear in her pants, her lip was busted and bleeding and her eyes were watery, hair a wild mess.

 

I just nodded and followed her out the door while my sister and mom watched me leave in confusion.

 

After we reached her home again from the woods she was still shaken up a bit, and I held her. I reminded her that the peacekeeper Balthier, who was especially aggressive with his fists, wouldn't be attacking her anymore. I rubbed her back as if it was Prim I was soothing until Marjolaine stopped shaking.

 

Two nights later, she invited me over after her shift at the mines. I met Albe her brother, he lingered enough to shake his head at my yes or no questions then disappeared in his room. We played cards and drank apple cider mixed with alcohol from Ripper’s distillery.

 

“Stop calling me Marjolaine, I’m not a spice or a dessert,” she snapped at me, with no malice.

 

I laughed, “That’s what they called you in school!”

 

“Well to you, it’s Jolaine or Jo, got it?” she told me with a wink.

 

“Ok, Jo!” I said and continue on with our card game.

 

I won the game and with a gleam in her eyes she decided to test my sense of humor. I collected the cards into a pile and looked up to the sight of Jo's large pale bare breast.

 

I shut my eyes tight, my face flushed. “Geeze Jolaine, is this how you break the ice with your new friends?”

 

“Only a couple,” she answered between gasps of laughter.

 

She replaced her shirt and we played a couple more rounds of cards.

 

Later that evening, there came a knock on the door, and at the sound, Jolaine’s face morphed back into the pensive, fearful looking merchant girl act I remember her sometimes using in school. She disappeared into another room.

 

I couldn’t help but wonder if the innocent act was strategic. Was she playing doe-eyed and vulnerable on purpose? There had to be a reason the most vile peacekeepers were approaching her and not other young girls. If they didn’t know how clever she was and how quick with a pickaxe she was, Jo seemed easy prey. An outside observer would see one of the most beautiful merchant girls had moved to the Seam, away from her parents’ protection. Maybe Jo thought it was better that they approach her and not more weak, vulnerable girls so she played the part.

 

Jo returned with a more determined look on her face as I heard the knocks at the door again, this time more insistent. In her hands was a pickaxe and something else, I wasn't not sure what it was until she twisted and unfolded the wooden bow and jammed it into my hands, with 3 short arrows one could easily conceal.

 

“Don't ask questions,” she told me.

 

I tested the bow, deciding how to best adjust for height to get an accurate shot, but there was no time. The banging grew more aggressive and insistent.

 

Jo indicated to the door. “Try to keep everything outside, okay?” my eyes widened, I understood.

 

She opened the door and quick like a fox, she flew through the narrow space, I follow her lead.

 

It all happened relatively quickly, I would replay the incident in my mind over and over again, but the only explanation I found was that I acted instinctively.

 

The first peacekeeper attacked Jo and held her down and put one of his filthy hands on her body, all while beating her into submission with the other.

 

While the second peacekeeper came after me, I kicked him in the shin, then between his legs.  

 

I don’t remember aiming or thinking, I just remember letting the arrow fly. The man who held Jo in a tight grip dropped to the ground, tail of the arrow protruding through his eye socket. I turned  on the other vile man and met my mark just as Albe opened the door to take in the gruesome sight.

 

Jo growled as she raised her pickaxe again and again. Blood spattered as she took her rage out on the remains of the abusive peacekeepers.

 

We went inside to clean our hands, and wrapped the bodies in tarps like before. Jolaine had Albe help us dispose of the remains through the woods. I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of the tarp rustling as we pulled it under the weakest part of the fence. It snagged and jolted in a way that caused my stomach to churn, bile rose in my throat and I retched until I dry heaved.

 

We found the ravine, the place where we'd dumped Morren, Balthier., These two bodies followed. These horrible, sick men who abused their authority and power. Preying on vulnerable women, the peacekeepers got just what they deserve.

 

We walked back in stunned silence as the wind whispered of horrors I never thought I was capable of and the leaves rustled with knowledge of our secrets.

 

\-----------------

 

After replaying the incident from the previous night over and over in my mind, I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Was it self defense? The shot through the eye killed him instantly but certainly saved my friend's life.

 

Rory told me how shaken up Albe was and said that the redhead might be staying the night at Hawthornes’. I decided to pay a visit to Marjolaine, or Jo as she asked me to call her, worried about her alone in that house. The walk to singles housing was short, the bright moon lit my path. The cool breeze gently brushed my face and my thoughts wandered to Peeta. His bright blue eyes, the way he smiled at me, with just a hint of shyness.

 

My thoughts turned as I remembered, even if the merchant boy had an interest in me, I'm Seam.

And he has Jo.

 

I hesitated for a moment as I reached her door. I wondered, _do I knock or just let myself in? She just barged into my home, so surely I'm sure free to do the same._

 

I peered inside and was startled at first. Jo had someone pinned to the wall. It took me a minute to make sense of what I was seeing. _Is this a struggle? Does she need my help?_

 

Jo's shoulders shuddered as she tipped her head to the side and I had a better view. Long messy blond hair. Slender fingers squeezed her neck -- no wait -- cupped Marjolaine's jaw. This wasn't a struggle. The soft smack and sighs, impassioned hums that reached my ears as I held my breath, and the aggressive way Jo's right arm was moving told me this was a different kind of struggle. She nudged the other woman's leg wider with her own and shifted them enough for me to see that the shorter woman was curvy, in only pants and a bra. Jo's hand was concealed behind the large pale pink bra cup as they kissed.

 

My face grew hotter. I knew I should turn away, but I was curious. Who was the other woman?

 

Jo's head tilted and buried into the blond's neck but her long tresses still concealed the mystery woman’s face. The blond gasped, let out a high squeaky moan, followed by a “Yes,” whined by none other than Delly Cartwright. I realized, Jo's hand was buried deep in the merchant woman's pants and the pink bra was shifting precariously. I left quickly and silently.

 

As I walked back home, I bit my bottom lip and laughed, my face burning.

 

It was hard not to feel happy for the two women. I knew that kind of love was whispered about, but I had never seen it, nor over heard anything at the slag heap. I understood why someone would conceal something like that. It could be dangerous in a district like ours to divert from the status quo. I promised myself I would protect them, Delly Cartwright and Jo Maizen deserved all the happiness in their lifetime.

 

\-------------

 

I should have suspected something was amiss. My instincts usually warn me in such situations.

 

My mom was vulnerable, and susceptible. When an authority figure gave someone from the Merchant side their former family business back, they wouldn't dream of fighting the opportunity. Cray approached my fragile mother when Prim and I weren't home. Excitedly, she greeted me as I walked into our old warm Seam house. Tears filled her eyes as my mother waved the official documents. I read it carefully:

 

_Mrs. Lillian Everdeen is granted ownership responsibilities for the apothecary store front in lot 4 C of the Merchant Square. As always it is our pleasure to grant you such an opportunity to serve Panem._

 

My mom expected me to be pleased with the news. I was fuming.

 

All my life I had gone out of my way, refusing to owe anyone. With the exception of Peeta Mellark, all my debts had been paid. For the head peacekeeper to have something over our family's head like that felt like a punch in the gut, the kind that knocks the wind out if you and leaves you lying on the ground disoriented.

 

Over the course of a week, we worked on clearing dust, spider webs and scrubbing our new dwelling. Restoring the building to a usable state as Mom established the apothecary in town.

 

It only took a day for Cray to show his face. In so many words he laid on the guilt and as my gut twisted in knots as he reminded my mother how he had pulled some strings to get her that space and permits required.

 

It seemed his visits were everyday as he brought my mom new supplies for the apothecary, favors she didn’t ask for, hanging the great debt over her head, a debt I would never be able to repay. Cray’s disgusting gaze and putride evil amber colored eyes fell on my frame and that of my sweet sister’s. I began to have nightmares of what he might do, every one more horrifying than the next.

 

It seemed Cray wouldn't rest at night, he was found lurking under young girls’ windows every night. People didn't often speak out when it was girls from the Seam, “The type that used to be his customers,” one snooty woman from town gossiped. But when his interests shifted, suspiciously close to girls of Prim’s age and likeness, not only did the horrifying realization cause my stomach to churn and retch, but I became out of my mind with worry.

 

I invited Jo over every couple of nights, now that her tormentors were disposed of, I brought her over as another measure of safety for us. Her pickaxe always at her hip. My compact bow, harder to get to but I found a way to stow it in an inconspicuous leather satchel at my side.

 

“Why do you play the nervous frail act in public, Jo?”

 

She shrugged, “It’ complicated.”

 

“Try me.”

 

Jo sighed and leaned back, “I don’t even remember when I started doing it. I noticed Cane was less quick with his fists when I played the part.”

 

I nodded and wondered if this was how Peeta and Marjolaine bonded, familiar with abuse in the home.

 

“I learned over the years that if punishment was directed at me and not Albe. I could protect him, and it was less harsh. I could take it, but Albe, he was just a sweet kid. After Cray went mad, I noticed If the creeps were bothering me, they wandered away from… the younger ones.” She stared at the wall, debating if she would go on, finally looking me in the eyes, “and Prim.”

 

_Protect the Doe._

 

\------------------

  


After meeting with Hazelle Hawthorne about more curtain orders, I headed out of the old house, warm and tidy on the inside, caked with coal dust on the outside. Sae tugged on my arm as she saw me walking through the Seam. “We need to talk.”

 

I nodded and followed her to her own Seam home. She gestured for me to sit on her worn blue and gray couch as she lit a match and held it against sticks of incense. A skinny stream of smoke emanated from the end and enveloped me with sweet smells.

 

She poured me a tea I didn’t ask for and placed it in my hands before she sat beside me on the couch as she spokes with a soothing voice and measured thoughtful pauses. Sae spoke more about the Boiling Springs and the two tribes in our ancestry, finding favor with the Sun god and the importance of being true to one’s heart. If one betrays their heart, the Evil Spirit finds power over the Great Spirit.

 

Greasy Sae explained a tale of two tribes who lived on this land long ago. Hundreds of years before the Dark Days. One tribe was deeply in tune with nature, the changing of seasons, the healing powers in plants and herbs and with pleasing the Great Spirit and living in harmony with all living beings and the unseen spirits. The second tribe believe in the existence of a Great Spirit, and also of an Evil Spirit who, they say, existed long before the Great Spirit, and was far superior in power.

 

Setup on her coffee table, I could identify the burning sage and another scent I wasn’t quite familiar with. I inhaled the scent slowly as Sae spoke of the horrific ceremonies the second tribe held to test the young warriors. A religious creed for the purpose of appeasing the Great Spirit and Evil Spirit, and to secure their entrance into those ‘Fields Elysian,’ or beautiful hunting grounds in the afterlife, the young men would subject themselves to the horrid and sickening cruelties.

 

I closed my eyes and found myself transported back in the woods near that very haunting place she described, near the Boiling Springs. The boulder with the etchings so real I could almost brush my fingers over the clear and defined images of the Wolf paws, the Deer, and the Mockingbird.

 

I turned my head to take in a ghastly sight. All around the springs, strung up from their backs, more than 30 men hung suspended in the air by metal hooks that resembled something Rooba would have for aging her beef. Warriors in their early 20s who looked hungry, dehydrated, bearing strategic cuts in uniform places on each man’s body, dripping with blood. But their haunting gray eyes, determined and defiant, betrayed the pain they had been subjected to, almost pridefully so.

 

I caught sight of an especially menacing warrior, who vaguely resembled a Hawthorne jawline and physique, tall and lean. The way he held in his internal raging anger in his stormy gray eyes and maintained his defiance sent shivers down my spine. The familiar swirling of rage and pride held just beneath the surface ready to combust if detonated, I'd seen it many times reflected in Gale.

 

My head turned to the venomous and cruel Chief of their people, their authority figure and my jaw dropped. The sheer rage and almost glee he held in asserting control tasted like acid in my throat. As the man brought a knife to a warrior’s middle finger, a finger crucial for the use of a bow and arrow, his eyes dared the warrior to show weakness as blood seeped and then poured out. Something flashed in the cruel man’s eyes, causing me to tremble in fear. Not only was the look in his eyes deadly but some sort of flash of glowing amber, unworldly evil resided there. Something I had seen before in Cray’s searingly cruel eyes.

 

Sae spoke again, though it sounded far in the distance, I could hear her clearly, “You have both tribes inside you, Katniss. An innate connection to nature and a respect for the land, a strong desire for peace and the Sun god, the Great Spirit has been smiling down on you a long time. You're a fighter like the other tribe within. In the face of the enemy you stare it dead in the eyes and defy their desires to break you, but like hundreds of years before you the fire inside can also be used against you.”

 

My eyes shifted and blurred, colors seemed more vivid and I found four walls around me. I stared back at the old woman with graying dark hair and wrinkles of wisdom surrounding cool smokey eyes. “The only way to resist the evil spirit’s power over you is the be at peace with what is in your heart Katniss. Make things right inside and you will not be vulnerable to the Evil Spirit in your life.”

 

“Are you saying--?” I couldn't even utter the words, far too terrifying to be spoken.

 

“Yes, we have reason to believe that Cray has encountered the Evil spirit and it has taken him almost entirely over.” Greasy Sae gestured to an old tattered book and there was a grainy faded image of the cruel and terrifying Chief that I had seen in my vision.

 

I stood up and shrieked in alarm.

 

I covered my mouth and stifled a few choice curses.

 

“He was possessed? That's why so many cruelties befell on those warriors in the name of honor and …” I briefly pondered how eerily reminiscent it was of the careers who train for the Hunger Games, shuddering at the thought.

 

All people from the Seam had a kind of resilience and strength, how they had endured such hostility and poverty yet they continued to work hard and provide for their families. “We refuse to owe anyone, we have little but our pride, and we are slow to let someone hold anything over our heads as leverage for a kindness they had done for us.” I considered. It wasn't hard to see or understand the two sides of the two tribes at work in the Seam, my people.

 

“You have found favor with the Sun god and she has empowered you to fight back Katniss. You have a fire within you, use it for good in the things you may face looming on the horizon. There will be people who will help you. Who are behind you on their own chosen path.

 

“Do not betray your heart it could be your downfall, Katniss,” Sae told me pointedly. I felt a hammering in my chest at the wise old woman's words.

 

“Now let me tell you more about Spirit animals. There are some people who are more sensitive and aware of the world as a whole, the people, the earth and the spirit world. Those people are born with a unique desire inside them to do more, beyond the average person and are driven to see the world change in some way.

 

“And they do. These beings have a great influence on the people and world around them. They create a shift in their generation, a pull in one direction or the other. At an opportune point in their lives, they are given their spirit animal.” Her wise gray eyes studied me intensely.

 

“Tell me what I have to do with this?”

 

_A Mockingbird is a messenger from the Great Spirit, she has understanding, innocence, and influence based on the purest intentions. And if she asks a question with the sincerest intentions she may get the person's honest answer in her thoughts._

 

I swallow and took the wise woman's words in and silently ask, “Am I the Mockingbird?”

 

Sae's gray eyes don't reveal any surprise, her lips remained closed but in my mind I heard her answer in her own voice, _Yes child._

 

“You may have a mate with a spirit animal as well, he will help you, guard your heart, but let him in,” she said with amusement, a knowing smile spread on her face.

 

“What makes you think it's a he and not she?” I asked, mostly to be obstinate.

 

She clasped my shoulders and tilted my chin so my eyes would meet hers, _because I know who it is._ I heard her words, though her close lipped smile remained.

 

I was curious, but confused. I thanked Sae.

 

With new determination I felt empowered and enlightened from everything Sae told me. I briefly wondered if Sae had a family member who was a seer long ago. Or maybe she also has an animal spirit, maybe a wise bird who leads others with words and wisdom. I shook my head at my speculation because there was no way to know. I made a mental note to ask her next time.

 

\-------------------

  


The worry in my gut wouldn't subside. That's why when I went to trade at the bakery. I fell completely apart at Peeta's kind concerned questions. My carefully concealed mask had been cracking and wearing down, but it was Peeta's shy smiles, his kindness and good will that always seemed to get under my skin and caused the nearly impenetrable mask to slip.

 

Peeta held me close, so tight and comforting in his strong arms. I wondered if he could feel my heart hammering in my chest. I tried to steady my breath but I shuddered in his warm embrace.

 

I tried to tell myself, “He brings everyone hope. Be reasonable. His kindness is extended to everyone.” But my heart wouldn’t listen, kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there. I was helpless to remove Peeta from the place he was deeply lodged.

 

I stared into his kind blue eyes and found myself at war, opposing myself. I realized, I didn't need him but I wanted him, with every fiber of my being. The logical side urged me to think practically, “You never want to marry, and you never felt this deeply about Gale. This could mean huge heartache.”

 

Yet I found myself begging Peeta, pleading with my eyes and my heart to feel what I felt.

 

 _I do. Always._ His voice answered me in my head with a reverence and adoration that did things to my insides. Made me feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

 

I slowly blinked once, time stood still. Before I could second guess my instinct, my lips swept his, slow and sweeter than I knew I was capable of. I gripped his shirt so he couldn't escape and he laughed against my lips. He cupped my law and tilted my head so he could kiss me more deeply. The moment his lips pulled away to form a blinding smile, I lost all rational thought.

 

His eyes met mine, his eyebrows rose, “Is this real?”

 

I couldn't help but laugh and roll my eyes, “Real.”

 

I'm not sure who pulled who into more kisses, but I tightened my grip on his shirt and his hands caressed down my spine as the world around us faded away. Bright colors danced behind my eyelids and beautiful music played between my ears, expressing all my feelings in a transient melody.

 

Words are Peeta's thing not mine, but I wanted him to know how I felt, because I didn't know how I felt...but kissing him like that…I poured out everything I meant to say. His rugged hands gripped me tighter as a muffled growl reached my ears and made something in my chest vibrate and dance downward and swirl in my stomach. I sucked in a deep breath through my nose and savored the feel and taste of his plump lips. The passion and heat spread through my whole body. I felt like I was flying. Dizzy and soaring higher than the time I celebrated my last reaping with a bottle of Ripper’s finest distilled liquor. Kissing was never like that before Peeta. I didn't know there was a kind of kiss that made you want for more. I felt a new kind of hunger I didn't realize existed.

 

Something crashed behind me. I realized I had been pushed against the work table. Awakened from my daze, I came to my senses. We were kissing in the back room of the bakery.

 

I touched my fingertips to my swollen lips and couldn't hold in my laughter. “We shouldn't be doing this here should we?” I whispered, pressing my body against his, though I betrayed my words by pecking him on the lips twice before he could get an answer out.

 

Peeta sighed and smiled, resting his forehead against mine, his hands ran up and down my arms, “I guess not.”

 

Then he gave me two slow lingering kisses that made my toes curl and dramatically pulled away, grinning mischievously.

 

I half-glared, half-smirked at him.

 

Peeta laughed and squeezed my hand twice before releasing in. “I have to get back to these cookies,” he sighed. Then in a half hearted imitation of his father Peeta said, “These cookies aren't going to bake themselves.”

 

And I heard myself laughing, an unusually care free attribute. I covered my lips with my hand and shook my head.

 

Peeta looked thoughtful and then gave me a very vulnerable stare, “Can we talk later?”

  


And his lips met mine again as he waited for an answer. I moaned softly as his lips pulled away.

 

I could definitely use more of those, I thought. “Yeah, Okay.” I sighed, breathless.

 

Later that evening, Peeta met me at my house, well, the apothecary. Our family business bought with a heavy debt.

 

Peeta he looked nervous, unsure. He slowly reached for my hand and pulled me into his side and I melted into him. All the stress, the heavy weight I carried seemed to lessen in his presence.

 

“Can’t deal with Cray anymore, I can’t sleep at night, I’m always on watch.”

 

He shushed me as he stroked me cheek and I tilted into his touch, “We’ll figure something out.”

 

 _We_ he said we.

 

“You don’t have to do this alone, you can’t, Katniss.”

 

I caught sight of a bird on a far apple tree as it took flight and sored closer. “A Mockingbird,” I gasped. I pointed it out to Peeta as the bird landed on the nearest tree branch. For some reason I knew it was going to be okay as I recalled all the things Sae told me.

 

“Let’s go inside,” I whispered just before I stole a kiss from Peeta’s delicious lips.

 

And we took our time getting well acquainted with each other’s laughs and eventually our lips and tongues. His hand gently massaged my breast over my bra, under my shirt as his lips separated from mine and migrate to my neck. I hummed and wrap my legs around his waist. “You’re sure this is okay?” he asked between kisses.

 

“Mmhmm,” I answered, but it came out as more of a growl. “We’re just testing out the new Patient room.” I pulled him up on the tiny nagahide bed so I could straddle him properly, I wanted to him at a loss for words.

 

“We fogged up the windows,” he laughed. As I rocked my hips and pulled him into another kiss I heard the low moan I was hoping for and oh it did things to me. My fingers dug into his soft waves and got lost in kisses and slow movements of our clothed bodies.

 

“Katniss?” he whispered against my lips.

 

“Yes,” I sighed, because the way he said my name with such reverence turned my insides to jelly.

 

“Are you my-- Can you be my--”

 

“Yes!” I cut him off because I had never seen him look so unsure, and vulnerable. I hated it. I’ll be his girlfriend.

 

He snorted and brushed the hair out of my eyes, while he licked his lips, “You don’t know what I was going to ask.” I popped a kiss on his lips. I don’t really want to have a serious conversation about feelings right now, his gaze was so intense, I couldn’t stand it.

 

He pulled me into an embrace and sighed into my hair. “I don’t know if you understand. You’re it for me, Katniss.”

 

“I thought you were with, Jo, Marjolaine…” and I’m annoyed by the way my voice cracked, at how it reveals the longing I felt. “I didn’t know how to feel,” _about this connection_ , I wanted to tell him, but the words didn’t come.

 

Instead of looking at me, he held his hand up and placed mine flat against it, from rough palms to warm calloused fingertips.

 

“And how do you know I’m not with her?” he asked. I'm sure he meant to come off playfully, but his voice was soft and raspy in response to the intimacy of our hand movements. He spread his fingers and slowly laced them through mine, closing around my nuckles tightly, though his hand was shaking slightly. I folded my fingers like he did and felt the warmth between our fingers, an energy exchange.

 

“I uh,” my cheeks felt hot as I remembered, “I sort of walked it on Jo with Delly.” I told him.

 

“Kissing?”

 

“Oh it was a little more than kissing,” I said, hoping I didn't have to elaborate, I bit my lip, eyes wide.

 

He laughed at my reaction. “I was wondering if they would tell you, or if I would have to clear that up. Jo said she gave you a few clues but you’re _brainless.”_ I raised an eyebrow and pursed my lips. “Her words, not mine.” He held his hands up in innocence.

 

I laughed, and nodded. “Sounds like her.”

 

“You know,” he spoke as he peppered my face with light kisses. “you were Delly's first crush?”

A soft kiss landed on my cheek.

 

I shook my head. “No way.” A kiss landed on my nose and I wrinkled it.

 

“And mine,” he said in a lower voice, too serious to be joking. “Since the first time I heard you sing.” His fingers dug into the hair on the back of my head pulling me in to a strong, meaningful kiss. “...And maybe that crush has always stayed there,” he whispered.

 

I pulled him in for more kisses until we were dizzy, flushed and breathless. He leaned his forehead playfully on my shoulder and rushed out in one breath, “Katniss-I-wanna-to-marry-you-someday.”

 

I froze and my eyes bulged. _Well, way to blindside a girl, Mellark,_ I tought.

 

Before I could form any words, I heard the old apothecary front door rattle and creak open in the other room. I stood quickly and hastily straightened my rumpled clothes. My braid was long gone so I fluffed my hair while Peeta adjusted his pants.

 

We smiled at each other, like we were holding in surprise news or we had just ate the last piece of chocolate cake at some merchant toasting, and we headed into the kitchen as a couple, hand in hand.

* * *

 

_Preview:_

His cruel growl met my ears, then I heard struggling and a thud against the wall coming from inside, “Your going to leave the door open at night and you will not fight me when I come to you.” I was careful to tread on light feet as I stepped closer and peered through a window.

 

Just as I feared it was my mother pinned against a wall, a large gloved hand gripping her neck.

I stepped through the side door and drew my arrow. Preceding on silent feet.

 

“And your girls…” He started but Mom summoned the courage to speak, “What about my girls?” Her lip trembled as tears streamed down her face.

 

I took a silent breath, aimed my arrow at the head peacekeeper's temple and took another step forward, “Yes, what about her girls?” I asked, my voice steady, deadly, arrow knocked.

 

 

Conclusion for this spine tingling tale tomorrow...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the conclusion you've been anticipating!!  
> Fair warming: murder and smut ahead

The following night, Peeta organized a meeting to discuss how we should go about taking down head peacekeeper Cray. Our ongoing discussions over the past few weeks led to building this team. I asked Gale and Darius how serious they were about helping me take down Cray, and they were a little intense in their life or death commitment to the cause. I wasn’t sure what to think about that. Jo was ready to take action and didn’t quite appreciate the planning, Delly was an easy tie in. The two women even volunteered their brothers’ to assist in any heavy lifting if we needed the extra man power. We convened regularly to formulate our plan. I consulted Sae in the process.

 

I found it odd that Gale didn’t want me to mention anything to Leevy, but then when I overheard their bickering and I felt even more uncomfortable about it.

 

“I know Katniss is who you meet with--”

 

“And Marjolaine, and a few others I don’t feel like I need to mention, for your safety and theirs.”

 

As I stepped further into the house, around the corner in the living room two pairs of steely Seam eyes were at odds, caught in a stalemate. I stepped back into the kitchen, giving them some privacy, but I could still hear them.

 

“I see the way you look at her. I don’t think you look at me the same way.”

 

I held my breath and waited for him to refute her claim, prove to her that he didn’t have any lingering feelings.

 

Instead he went off, explaining quite aggressively how important these meetings were and it would ensure future safety for the district, for Posey, for Prim and any future Hawthorne’s. Leevy seemed to soften because when she spoke it was filled with love, “I hope, someday.”

 

The couple shifted to another room in the Hawthorne house and I waited for Hazelle quietly, hoping no one was aware of what I overheard.

 

\------------------

 

I approached the apothecary, our new home. His cruel growl met my ears, then I heard struggling and a thud against the wall coming from inside, “You’re going to leave the door open at night and you will not fight me when I come to you.” I was careful to tread on light feet as I stepped closer and peered through a window.

 

Just as I feared it was my mother pinned against a wall, a large gloved hand gripping her neck.

 

I stepped through the side door and drew my arrow. Preceding on silent feet.

 

“And your girls…” He started but Mom summoned the courage to speak.

 

“What about my girls?” Her lip trembled as tears streamed down her face.

 

I took a silent breath, aimed my arrow at the head peacekeeper's temple and took another step forward, “Yes, what about her girls?” I asked, my voice steady, deadly, arrow knocked. “And choose your words carefully, I know just where to bury you in the woods where no one will find you.” I whispered, not a threat, a promise.

 

The man flashed rage in his eyes, taking on an amber hue that made something inside me lurch forth, angry and firey. As I stared back defiantly, my eyes felt as warm as the burning sun scorching into his. A war of stares it seemed. Cray startled at the sight and released his hold on my mother, blurting out something about a misunderstanding and fled.

 

There was no going back.

 

\--------------------

 

The air felt colder, the wind howled, and with the sound of a screeching owl, I felt icy cold in my skin. _A warning_ my instincts told me.

 

The moon’s dim glow seemed brighter and hung low, as if it was on our side, aiding to light our mission.

 

Jo and I approached the apothecary. I gripped my bow I had tucked under the sleeve of my leather jacket. Jo flashed me a wicked grin in the dark, keeping my pace, gripping her pickaxe.

 

Around the back, I spotted a dark figure, then another, and a third appeared. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms but I kept a tight grip on my bow.

 

“Where is Prim?” I asked, serious, calm.

 

The peacekeepers approached slowly, five of them. Batons in hand, dark eyes, and snarling expressions. One of them had a black eye and another had claw marks on his cheek and arms. My eyes met Jo’s and her dark determined gaze was unwavering.

 

In my head an older woman's voice spoke, warm and bright as sunshine, reminding me what side I was on, _Protect the Doe,_ she gently urged me.

 

“Where is she? Where is Primrose?!” I insisted, deadly serious.

 

“Easy ladies, we just wanted to have a chat with the two most beautiful eligible woman in the district.”

 

I glared at the man.

 

I nocked an arrow and let it fly, before the point met its target I had another knocked and aimed. Before he could blink, the second peacekeeper fell flat on his back with an arrow through the eye. I heard a shout and a gurgle, terrible gasping and then another gagging noise as Jo took care of a danger to my left.

 

I launched myself at the fifth one who turned his back to run. I had a tight grip around his neck. An arrow held to his temple. I repeated myself. “Tell me. Where. Is. Prim?” I punctuated my question by putting pressure to the tip of my arrow. Blood ran from where the point dug into his skin.

 

“At the head peacekeeper’s house,” his breathing was shallow. He gasped, “waiting for him while he does his rounds or whatever he does in the merchant side.” He rasped out. “We were told we could do as we please with you--” I didn't let him finish his sentence. I jammed the arrow deep into his eyeball. I watched him go limp as blood poured out.

 

As Albe and Delly’s brother ran up behind me I looked over at Jo, “We have to get to Cray’s!!”

 

Dead body slung over his shoulder, Delly’s brother shouted, “Go! We’ve got this!”

Jo and I raced to find Prim.

 

The back door of Cray's house wouldn't budge. “Locked. Should we sneak in?”

 

“We’re running out of time!” Jo yelled, swung her axe and hacked the door apart.

 

There in the vile man's bedroom, my beautiful young sister was passed out, head and upper torso on the bed, legs dangling off the side. Her two delicate wrists were bound to one bedpost. My vision blurred with tears as I took slow breaths to calm myself. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, reminding me to keep going, while comforting me in her own way.

 

I freed my sister's wrists and noticed the knuckles on her right hand were bruised and bloodied. I remembered one peacekeeper had a black eye, and another with claw marks. “Atta girl!” I whispered with a smirk.

 

I raised her head and saw a gash above her brow, “Oh Prim.” I clutched my sister awkwardly and carried her to our home while Jo covered my back, checking every which way for danger.

 

I had Prim on the patients’ table and mom was cleaning her wounds when my sister gasped awake. At the sight of her sweet blue eyes I was again overcome by emotion. “My sweet Prim.” I babbled as I clutched her hand and tears dropped from the corners of my eyes.

 

I held Prim tighter. As she trembled in my arms I whispered, “You’re safe, Prim. We have you. You’re safe. I'll keep you safe. I promise.”

 

“This needs stitches.” Mom frowned. I held my sister's hand while our mother stitched her gash and did my best to soothe her with my words.

 

“So Gale and Leevy are going to stay the night here later on and Jo will be here for now to keep you safe while I--” I stopped and formulated how to explain... without explaining. “While I keep watch, and ensure your safety. Okay?” I stroked the blond wisps of hair out of her eyes, and hoped that my words would help calm her. I knew we would have a long road, this was traumatic. Prim would need time to heal and my mother was better at healing.

 

My eyes met the cloudy blue of my mother's and I silently begged her not to ask any more questions. She nodded, as if accepting whatever I had to do, though her sigh meant she wouldn't like it.

 

\--------------

 

Slinking through the darkness I watched him, sizing up my prey as he strolled arrogantly through the merchant square.

 

The wind whistled as I shifted and checked my surroundings before treading carefully on silent feet, never taking my eyes off my target.

 

The man stalled under the dimly lit window of the sweet shop. A clear view of the owner’s teenage daughter as she got ready for bed.

 

I watched.

 

Waiting for the right moment.

 

Ensuring the man’s false sense of security.

 

Arrow nocked, my chin hovered over my shoulder. I couldn’t get a good angle for the eye and his armor made it difficult to pierce through the heart. I lowered my bow and nodded.

 

Where he was on watch from the street corner in full Peacekeeper attire, Peeta turned to me and jerked his chin up. I turned my head in the opposite direction. Darius nodded and reached for his gun.

 

I stepped around the corner crept slowly in the shadows gripping my hunting knife. Plan B was in effect.

 

I kicked a pebble.  

 

Cray jumped from the noise. Before he could turn, a peacekeeper boot connected with his groin. Cray landed with a thud. A gun pointed at his head gripped by one of his own trusted subordinates with familiar copper hair. The last thing Cray saw as broad blond man held him down was the deadly stare of blue wolf like eyes. The whip of a dark braid. Something sharp and metallic flashed.

 

As the blood gushed from his jugular and ran down the blade and my gloved hand, the only emotion that crossed my stone cold face and icy gray stare was relief. I waited until the shocked expression and glazed eyes of my assailant had frozen and the color drained from his face.

 

Freedom with every drop of blood that gushed from his body. Ending his reign of terror.

 

I left him hunched over in a mass of blood just outside the blond girl's window he was lurking under.

 

Also in full peacekeeper garb, Gale turned to acknowledge that plan B was a success from where he stood in his strategically placed position of look out.

  


Darius and Gale took up the body and disappeared in the darkness to the complete the mission. They were tasked with dumping the head peacekeeper Cray into his final resting place and with him all the evils plunged into darkness.

 

Shedding the medical garment I borrowed from my mother's things and carefully removing the bloodsoaked gloves, I quickly reached the back door of the Shoe Shop where Delly had a fire in the hearth, ready for burning. The evidence of the events burned up in a blaze while I watched the fire burn and consume the evils that transpired.

 

 _There's no telling what tomorrow will bring but for now, Prim is safe._ Peeta's heavy tread announced his appearance. He shed his peacekeeper attire and watched it incinerate. A sorrow remained present in my expression while unable to hold in the relief that I felt from my head to my toes.

 

His arms wrapped around me, more intimate than I was expecting in front of Delly, but not unwelcome. “You okay?”

 

“I don't know how to feel.” My voice monotone, eyes still studying the fire.

 

“Killing someone takes everything you have…”

 

“That miner who went missing…He wasn't a rebel. He attacked me… and I killed him,” he told me, lip quivering and I could hear the remorse, Peeta's voice a low growl, “with my bare hands.”

 

He looked at the wall, lost in thought, then he shook his head. “This sounds crazy, but a wolf actually lead me to where I should bury the man's body.” His spirit animal, just as Sae suggested. Peeta the protector, the Wolf, capable of great good and terrible evil. What's in his heart might have given him the strength to use his wolf spirit for good. I studied Peeta for a moment with new eyes as he continued.

 

“I never thought I would venture in the woods,” he turned his gaze toward me and licks his lips, “especially not without you.”

 

I thought of Darius's teasing in the Hob the first day Peeta spoke to me as if a friend.

 

Something occurred to me.

 

“What did his eyes look like?”

 

“What?”

 

“His eyes Peeta. Were they a regular Seam gray color? Or--”

 

“Warmer, like a light brown.”

 

“Just like Cray's!” I gasp. For some reason I reached for Peeta for comfort. I gripped his shirt tightly. “I've seen it. There's something…”

 

“...Off,” he finished. There was more to it, we both knew, but we didn't want to verbally acknowledge it.

 

While Cray held influence as a person in power, his actions had been related to gaining control and his perverse preferences.

 

Peeta having the Wolf Spirit would have been extremely powerful if he had been used for Evil. There's no telling what he would have been capable of if his inner wolf went Mutt-Peeta on the entire district.

 

I shivered and Peeta's arms wrapped around me so protectively.

 

Electric, I felt the tension build like static between my fingertips. I gasped for air but there just wasn't enough filling my lungs as he pulled me tighter to him. I melted in his arms. I could feel the pounding in his chest against my own.

 

Like a magnet my lips latched to his. Warm and inviting, a soft caress of his plush lips ghosted over mine.

 

Before he could pull away, my fingers dug into the soft waves at the back of his neck, and I angled my head to kiss him more deeply as I sucked in his plump bottom lip. My throat vibrated as a soft hum escaped. A slow stream of energy and desire radiated from my lips, down my chest, through my arms, dancing low in my belly and tingling between my legs.

 

I heard a loud gravely moan and it startled me. I pulled away and realized it was my own voice. Peeta's eyebrows were raised and he leaned in for another. Oh how slow and stimulating it was. I sighed when he pulled back to study me. His lips puffy and pink like a ripe strawberry. His pale cheeks flushed and his blue eyes seemed in a trance. I'm sure I looked like I'd been momentarily lost in a fantasy as well.

 

Peeta and I stayed the night in Delly's brother's room and he held me close until I fell asleep, but not for long because I woke thrashing and struggling to catch my breath. Warm comforting arms soothed me as his deep voice whispered, “I'm here, you're okay, it was just a dream, Katniss. Your safe, Prim is safe.” I snuggled into Peeta’s embrace.

 

My lips found his soft plush ones. “I just want that hunger again,” I told him, as I gripped his shirt and pulled him in for more slow kisses.

 

“Hunger for something?” He asked, with a sexy smile.  

 

I smirked and didn't answer him. Instead I slid my hands under his white cotton shirt and found ridges of muscle under my fingertips, ridges I could wash my laundry on. I tugged it up and pulled harder until he let me rid him of the garment.

 

I looked into his eyes in the dark of the night, in the light of the moon streaming through the open window.

 

“I guess you could say a hunger for some _one_.”

 

At my words, his eyebrows shot up but his lids looked hooded, his eyes took on a darker quality.

 

Our lips collided with a heated desire. Wet and hot, his lips and tongue caressed and dipped and teased. I pressed my body against his, my hands roamed and explored every everything I could reach. When his lips kissed down my neck, I gasped for air, my legs parted and I straddled him, instinctively seeking friction between our bodies. But the heat had grown unbearable.

 

Without overthinking it, I yanked my shirt over my head. Peeta's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. I covered my bare breasts, regretting my bold move. His hands covered mine and he kissed me slow and tantalizing, his tongue dancing and mingling with mine.

 

“Don't hide them please?”

 

I removed my hands as his took their place and I arched into his touch with a sigh.

 

I almost yelped when his tongue replaced one hand, swirling around the stiff peak. As I moaned and writhed on top of him. I swivelled my hips and I discovered an incredible pleasure, Peeta's dropped jaw told me it was equally pleasurable for him too. I'm not admitting to anything I had or hadn't done before being with Peeta, but it had never felt like that.

 

“Help me forget?” I groaned in his ear, and I nibbled at the spot just below his earlobe, because I couldn't ask him what I really wanted. Not out loud anyway.

 

“Only if it’s real. Only if you feel this deeply,” he begged as he placed my hand tenderly on his beating chest, where his heart beat a rhythmic love song.

 

My kisses lingered behind his ear and traveled down his jaw as my hands roamed and explored every inch of exposed skin. My lips followed along, taking care to stop and linger as Peeta moaned or squirmed under my touch and lips. He sucked in a gasp as I rid him of his flannel sleeping pants.

 

Because ever since I walked in on Delly and Jo, I wanted to hear Peeta gasp and moan under my touch. I stroked him through the thin fabric and listened to the sounds as I freed him and took him in my mouth. I bobbed and swirled and sucked his hard cock as if I was desperately thirsty for him until his noises came with no restraint. Just when I thought he’d surrender, his hand gently pried me away.

 

I expected him to explain, but he just grinned wickedly and flipped me on my back. I caught my breath and tried to relax but I felt so vulnerable.

 

I closed my eyes and was soon lost in the sensations as Peeta painted my body with his lips and his tongue. When his finger settled _there,_ I started begging, “Please, please, more please?”

 

And he answered my plee tenfold, as I gripped the sheets tightly and the earth tilted. With mind blowing revolutions of his fingers and his tounge fireworks ignited behind my eyelids. Amazing beauty created by his hands in faded watercolor shades behind my eyes as the heat and pleasure washed over me from head to toe.

 

I caught my breath and kissed my way back down his body to finish what I started. When I placed a kiss to the head, and took long slow swipes of my tongue, Peeta grabbed my ankle and pulled me around in a half circle. I was confused, but kept my attention on my task, I wanted him really hard and I wanted to regain my courage before I took another step into territory I had not experienced before.

 

I took him in my mouth and felt his hands stroke my thighs and pry them apart. I took him in deeper and felt Peeta's callused thumbs part my folds and hummed a moan deep in my throat at the pleasure in the expected swipe of his tongue. I released him and moaned, but pulled away and turned. Peeta grinned at me and I shook my head. Holding his eyes captive, I crawled to him and whispered in his ear, “I think we should make love.”

 

Peeta's jaw dropped, and he sucked in a breath of air but his eyes glistened with emotion. I took his face in my hands and kissed him, pouring out my feelings. I straddle one of his muscular thighs and my arms slid around his neck as our lips separated. “Show me what to do,” I whispered, looking into his blue eyes, feeling soft and vulnerable. “I've never… I didn't…”

 

“Shhh, shhh. You don't have to say.” He told me, so lovingly as he stroked my hair. With such intensity and desire he didn't break his stare as he sat up, and helped me straddle him.

 

“This way, you're in control, you can decide how slow and deep we start.” He told me, and placed kisses on my forehead and cheek.

 

“Okay,” I sighed with a nervous smile.

 

His fingers swept through my wet folds before I felt the head of his cock rub through the swollen lips a few times, I moaned as his cock circled my entrance and Peeta stalled there.

 

“Peeta are you nervous?” I asked him, as he bit his lip and studied where we were almost joined.

 

“Yes.” He gasped. I got an idea and I pushed him down on the bed so his head was propped up by the pillows, then I gripped his cock and ground against it like earlier, but without clothes. I was soaking wet as I teased his head at my entrance. The hunger and need for him grew and just like I usually do I acted instinctively and slowly took him in.

 

The look on Peeta's face was mesmerizing as his jaw dropped and his eyes shut. His face flushed and his neck and chest was pink and blotchy.

 

I took deep breaths as he stretched and filled me. Peeta gripped my hips as he shuddered. It was as uncomfortable as I had expected, but it also felt good. I leaned down to kiss him again and moved my hips a little. Peeta's moan urged me to do it again and he sat up, and raised one of my legs above his hip and we started to really move.

 

Burning heat spread through my whole body.  Peeta slammed and drove my hips. The hunger took over in a blur as I was filled with sensations I didn't know were possible. His passionate grunts and moans were what sent me over the edge. Drinking him in deeply in my euphoria, my whole body ignited as I pulsed and trembled in the after shock. We caught our breaths and wrapped around each other in euphoric bliss. Peeta found a tissue and helped me clean up our sticky mess.

 

Peeta held me tight, blew out a content sigh, and I felt his breathing even out against my skin.

 

I closed my eyes longing for sleep, but it wouldn’t come.

 

As I stared into the darkness my mind took another turn.

 

I'm not stupid. I knew what I did. Whatever my reasons were, I killed the head peacekeeper. A far more effective act of defiance than anything the miners had planned.

 

Effective enough to incite a rebellion of sorts, an act of defiance against authorities appointed by the capitol. And I dragged my team of accomplices into defiance with me.

 

Dread crept in and unfurled in my belly.

 

I should stay. I should curl up warm and safe with Peeta, but the more I laid there in relative safety, the more my mind spun twisted webs of every worst-case-scenario possible in my head and they all ended with Peeta Mellark dead, or tortured _because of me_.

 

Thinking it best if I disappeared, I left as soon as I knew he was asleep. I crept back into the shadows and found my old abandoned home in the Seam, but every shadow caused me to panic, and every change of light, every rustling in the distance made me freeze.

 

I found no sleep in my old bed either. No rest, no peace.

 

A dark shadow moved outside my window in echo with my every movement. I was being watched.

 

A figure is stalked me.

 

I wondered if it was more peacekeepers. Had they followed me? Did they already know what I’d done? I wondered if I could convince them I acted alone?

 

On silent socked feet, so as not to awaken ghosts, I peered through every room. Perhaps the Evil Spirit had found me?

 

I turned my head with every creak and groan of the old Seam house. The moonlight shifted and the figure seemed to vanish.

 

The howling in the wind sounded like a bad omen. I trembled as I reached for the handle of the door, but I needed to check on Prim, to make sure she was safe. If only for my own peace of mind.

 

I chose the longer walk through the shadows on the outskirts and took care as not to be seen, but I felt eyes on me with every turn. My heart pounded in my chest and fear gripped me so tightly. I almost couldn’t breathe.

 

I heard soft footsteps behind me. I dipped and dodged, but they keep pace with mine.

 

I knew it was peacekeepers. To bring retribution for what I did.

 

An arm whipped me behind a building and before I could scream, a warm hand covered my mouth.

 

Greasy Sae pulled me into her house, and my whole body sagged in relief at the familiar smell of incense.

  


“What happened yesterday girl? Cray’s body was supposed to be dumped in the Boiling Springs.”

 

“Gale was dressed in a peacekeeper’s uniform and he helped Darius in the woods. As far as I know, Cray's body _was_ successfully dumped into the Boiling Springs,” I explained though my heart was still thundering in my chest.  

 

Sae’s face shifted. Horrified, she asked, “Do you know what’s in his heart?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“This morning Darius assumed the role of head peacekeeper.” She paused but her panicked tone did nothing but escalate the inner turmoil I felt. Darius would never take that sort of position. “He’s always been sweet on you. But Peacekeepers cannot marry. He's been betraying his heart for a long time. No one's seen Gale since last night, and I don't think that boy ever got over you.” Shivers ran down my spine as I remembered him fighting with Leevy.

 

With a few frantic words to Sae, I rushed to the apothecary to check on my sister and hug her tightly to myself. I didn’t make it that far, instead finding a teary-eyed Leevy in my home.

 

“What do you mean Gale didn’t show up last night?” I asked Leevy when she confirmed Gale was missing. “He was supposed to be here, keeping watch.” The Seam woman just shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

 

Mom gave me some tea to calm my nerves, but I felt this prickling at the back of my head and neck. I needed to tell Peeta how I truly felt. There was a war inside me and making my heart right would clear up this fog and haze of terror I’d been living in. Then we could find Gale together.

 

As I cautiously drew near the back door of the bakery, the wind yanked leaves from the trees, baring the branches, leaving them vulnerable.

 

Shivers ran down my spine and I tugged my coat tighter. I leaned against the side of the wall and took deep breaths. The lump in my throat remained and I felt a stinging in my eyes.

 

A low whistle startled me as wind whipped through the tree that I collapsed under so long ago. I allowed myself to pull out the memory I've hidden and kept safe. I could almost feel the rain in that moment as I recalled, I was only 11, I had exhausted all my options. The last fight in me gone, I was ready for it all to be over. Then I heard yelling, and Peeta threw the bread that brought me back to life. You never forget the face of the person who was your last hope.

 

 _Tell Peeta how you feel_ the Mockingbird spirit gently urged me.

 

My doubts obliterated, I stood more determined.

 

A familiar hand reached for me, pulled me further from the bakery as dread coursed through me.

 

I struggled and the hand yanked violently.

 

“I just want to talk,” he growled. My mouth formed in a thin line, but I nodded.

 

To my surprise, he seemed like himself as he spoke, kind sweet, and funny Darius. He released me and reached for my hand. Then he kissed me, only catching the corner of my mouth as I turned.

 

I wrenched myself away and was suddenly pinned to the wall, blocked in by his body.

 

My eyes locked onto his and the amber hue I saw in Cray's emerged and eclipsed his once kind blue ones. Bile rose in my throat.

 

He tried to kiss me again and again but I whipped my face back and forth, refusing to give him anything. “Katniss, you were supposed to be mine. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” he growled angrily. When his lips met my neck, I used the opportunity to yell. A strangled “Help!” escaped before he covered my mouth with his hand.

 

No time to panic. This wasn't Darius, I reminded myself. This wasn't him.

 

“Mockingbird don't struggle,” he growled in my ear.

 

At the name, heat poured through my insides, my eyes, and my fingertips.

 

I bit his hand and he recoiled it. My knee violently connected with his groin. As he reached for the injured area, I lowered my center of gravity by bending at the waist. I elbowed at his ribs but his peacekeepers’ uniform protected that part of his body. He reached for me with his right hand, I saw my opportunity and clutched his arm with both of mine. I took an instep, driving my hip with a pivot motion, knocking him off balance and I hurled him over my shoulder, flat on his back.

 

I ran and nearly reached the side of the bakery again. My head snapped back as my braid was yanked. I screamed and fell backwards. Darius's arm wrapped around my neck, I turned and slapped at his ear, his face, struck his nose, but his hold tightened before I could claw at his eyes. I kicked his shin and he stumbled, but he still had a hold on me.

 

I didn’t have time to panic, I wouldn’t give up. His weight and heavy armor dug into my chest and stomach. The pressure on my rib cage made it hard to breath. I dug my hunting knife out of my pocket and drove it into his hand. I twisted out of his hold as he cradled his mangled fist.

 

I raised my hunting knife to end it, but my confidence wavered as my eyes lingered on the scar above his eyebrow. My eyes burned and I inhaled sharply. I realized this is so much harder than killing Cray because this is, or was my friend. I rasped out a strangled “Darius!” His eyes transitioned to blue and he cocked his head, looking around with his eyebrows furrowed for a moment. His face red and bloody, lip cracked and clawed.

 

When his blue eyes met mine, I felt the heat rise to the surface again. He recognized the Mockingbird spirit within me, and rage replaced Darius’s expression. The friendliest peacekeeper's eyes turned amber colored and evil once more.

 

The Darius I knew was gone.

 

We struggled anew. He gained the upper hand, pinning me to the ground. I watched Darius’s face contort from blind rage to stock straight shoulders, bulging eyes and jaw dropped in shock as all his strength drained.

 

To my great relief, just behind Darius I caught sight of a familiar mop of unruly blond waves, as blood flowed over the slope of Darius’s neck.

 

The fact that Peeta Mellark saved my life for a second time in almost the exact spot that he saved me the first is not lost on me.

 

But before I could relax, another pair of peacekeeper boots approached, I lay still as thick blood dripped over my shoulder.

 

“Hands up,” the peacekeeper ordered Peeta.

 

I couldn’t see it but I’m sure he held a gun to Peeta’s head. The man must be crouched over. I kicked my foot out and knocked his legs out from under him, hurling him forward. I heard a gunshot and had no way of knowing where the bullet landed or if Peeta was okay.

 

I heard a thud. As I shifted and twisted out from under Darius’s body, my hand met cold metal. I'd never shot a gun before, but I stood and quickly point it at the man. I sucked in air as I realized his arm was wrapped around Peeta’s neck and he was running a knife along Peeta’s cheek, leaving a trail of blood behind.

 

I tried to aim but shooting a gun is nothing like aiming my bow, the dumb things are so small, with a vast margin of error. The peacekeeper taunted me, threatening to dice my lover into pieces but I blocked out his words. Peeta subtly pointed to the man’s hand, which was held away from Peeta’s face. I nodded slightly and aimed as best I could.

 

I closed my eyes after the trigger pulled and heard a cry in agony. The man sprawled on the ground as Peeta whaled on the peacekeeper, I stepped closer and shot twice, then held my breath.

 

Waiting for the next terror.

 

But I was met with silence

as Peeta and I stared at each other in shock.

  


\-------------------

  


Peeta and I dragged a dead Darius and the other peacekeeper’s dead body to the Boiling Springs in our confiscated peacekeeper attire. As we watched their bodies sink into the water, the bubbles that rose up in the swirling pool looked more like a thing, a capital mutt, something inhuman. Something terrifying.

 

I felt _something_ , a being of some sort, pushing on me, through the darkness I could scarcely make out a form. The presence seemed almost like a man. I squinted and my blood suddenly ran cold, because what I saw caused my hair to stand on end. Goosebumps ran up my arms. My convoluted thoughts, struggling to comprehend what my eyes were seeing, suddenly cut off by a shrill blood curdling scream.

 

My fingernails dug into my clammy palms. My back rigid. The raking and clawing feeling from the inside of my throat brought the startling realization that the scream of terror was coming  from _me_ . Panicked, my eyes focus on Peeta in terror as I realized too late. _My heart_.

 

An icy cold feeling passed through me as I felt a crushing weight and a cold grip drag me backwards so fast I couldn't catch my breath. My heels dragged and bumped on the uneven ground beneath me. My surroundings seemed a shadowy muddy blur.

 

“Katniss!”

 

Suddenly everything went dark.

  


I gasped for air as two strong warm hands clasped my own tightly and yanked me out of the water.

 

I tossed my head back and forth. I opened my eyes and was met with those beautiful blue eyes that have saved me time and time again. _We protect each other_ his voice in my mind told me, as if it explained everything.

 

My lip quivered as I started to sink. “The quicksand. Peeta!” I shrieked in agony as my boots sunk under the surface.

 

Peeta’s strong hands clutched mine tightly as he struggled to pull me from the watery sand. His eyes still held mine captive. Determined. Unwavering, he continued to tug me toward him out of the muck, only with every pull he seemed to slip. My eyes darted every which way, searching for anything that could buy us more time, to find a new strategy as I sunk deeper into the wet fine sand and soil on the outer edge of the Boiling Springs.

 

I heard a plunge and the sound of water churning behind me, then a gurgle and a horrifying hiss. My blood ran cold, my hands shook as I sunk faster.

 

Peeta pulled me tighter to him, I felt his warm strong hold around my submerged wrists.

 

Peeta refused to give up. “Let me go!”

 

“I can't.” His eyes wide with panic sought me out, pleading with me to understand.

 

Hot tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes as I stared, jaw dropped.

 

A long beat of silence passed through us, heavy with a lifetime of words we meant to say, a future we were meant to face together. The odds were never in our favor.

 

Adjusting to my fate, our fate, I kept my eyes on Peeta as I tilted my head above the watery sand.

 

Before the icy water burns my throat and I’m plunged into darkness, I inhaled thicky, one last time. “I love you, Peeta.”

 

I close my eyes, hoping it's all over quickly.

I feel a tug, or a jolt maybe. Some burst of energy hurles me, up, down, out? I'm not sure.

I feel cold air hit my wet skin and I'm enveloped in warmth as my feet land on sturdy ground.

I feel his breath on my neck.

"I love you too."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I like the Star-Crossed Lovers ending I had.  
> But changed it, here's an alternate ending for those who need an HEA because ILY! -Savvy ;)


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